Did you know...

that for just a couple extra bucks, the people at Mrs. Field's will completely cover your giant cookie with chocolate frosting???

.

You have to love that Diamond gave me an enormous chocolate chip cookie slathered in chocolate frosting for BREAKFAST on Mother's Day! Does this man know me or what?

Mother's Day

I've decided that men fear Mother's Day.

The proof is everywhere. When you can buy flowers at Home Depot, something has to be up. It's like all the men got together to say "Psst! Buddy! Tomorrow's Mother's Day. You know to buy these flowers, right? 'Cuz if you don't.... Well, you just don't even want to know what will happen then!"

On my first Mother's Day no less than five different men pulled Diamond aside and told him; "You know that this the one day of the year you can NOT forget without paying severely!" Forget chocolates on Valentine's Day? She'll be hurt, but it's livable. Spend your anniversary at a Nuggets game? (cough, cough) She might not mind. But Mother's Day? You CANNOT FORGET Mother's Day.

As a Mother's Day gift for the women in my ward, we decided to put together envelopes full of 3x5 cards for each woman. The cards would be from each woman's husband and children, acknowledging something "small and simple" that the mom/wife does that is really appreciated. I asked a friend of mine to hand out the cards during the announcement portion of the men's meeting. At first the response was lack-luster. Then my friend said "You don't want your wife to be the only women who doesn't have a card from her husband!" Next thing you know, the men were anxiously scribbling down all the wonderful things their wives do.

Fear I tell you. It's all about fear.

Scared

As I was checking the mail today, I noticed a flier taped to the side of the community mailbox. Hoping for some information on garage sales, or maybe some information about the new school, I looked closer only to find that it was a notice to the community that a CHILD MOLESTER had moved into the neighborhood.

As in MY neighborhood.

He apparently lives at the end of my street, is 5'11, Caucasian, and drives a white truck.

Thing of it is, I already live my life with the assumption that everyone is a predator until proven otherwise. As a rule, I don't trust the people in the bathroom at McDonald's, the guys building homes around the corner, or even the people at church. My kids don't play out front unattended and I wait outside the door of public restrooms. If I let you watch my kids, or let my kids play at your house, it's about the greatest compliment I can give.

So why would this news freak me out, when I already live in a world of fear and mistrust?

Because now it's real. It has a name. It has an address. It drives a white truck, and lives at the end of my street.

Success!

My plan actually WORKED!

Today I was surprised to find a comment on my last post from a very dear, old friend Danae. I have know Danae since she was a young teenager and was lucky enough to be one of her youth leaders in church. Now she's all grown up, married and has three little kids of her own.

Here's her entry: "I googled you today and you would be happy to know that this site is the first thing that came up! "

HOORAY!!! When she searched Ganelle Smith, there was no BYU Alumni magazine! No awful picture in a sweater vest! No cheesy update about quitting teaching to stay home with my boys! Finally there is something on the net that is more flattering than the remnants of a practical joke from Vern! VICTORY! Someone was wondering what I was up to and found me, HERE!

I knew this whole blogging business would pay off eventually!